


repercussions

by subtlenuage



Series: in union of heart [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Fluff, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together, Humor, M/M, Sane Tom Riddle, Secret Relationship, The Golden Trio Era (Harry Potter), or rather secret relationship revealed lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24726991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlenuage/pseuds/subtlenuage
Summary: In their seventh year of Hogwarts, just weeks before graduation, the rowdy and rambunctious Gryffindor Golden Boy and the prim and proper Heir of Slytherin are revealed to not only be dating, butengaged.Here is the aftermath, seen from those close to the couple.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Series: in union of heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787872
Comments: 66
Kudos: 1173
Collections: Hopefully Un-Problematic Tom/Harry fics, Top-tier HP/TMR Fics





	repercussions

**Author's Note:**

> this is a continuation of my fic **revelation,** which you can read as the first part of this story. i didn't expect so much love on that first story, so i decided to write this little continuation piece for more fluffy goodness. enjoy!

When Ginny Weasley sees Harry Potter on Sunday morning, it’s the first time she’s seen him since the great engagement announcement that shook the school just the day prior. He slides into a seat at the dining table across from her as he yawns and rubs the sleep out of his bleary eyes. He mutters a quiet “good morning” in greeting, but he's seemingly unperturbed by Ginny’s lack of response.

She can’t respond, not when she’s rooted in her seat and frozen in place like she’s been petrified by a basilisk in her reflection. She doesn’t even acknowledge Ron and Hermione joining them too, taking seats on either side of Harry as they bicker on about some nonsense as always.

Usually, she’d be more than happy to listen in on their bantering, but she can’t. Instead, she just sits there, stock still and gaping at Harry like a fish out of water. She stares at him for a cold long minute before she finally moves to do the first thing that comes to her head.

She stands up, leans over, and slaps him.

“Ow!”

The resounding smack’s not nearly as satisfying as Ginny wishes, but it’s enough for now. A haughty grin climbs onto her face as she watches him cup his reddening cheek gently and look up at her slack-jawed. Ron and Hermione have ceased their squabbles to watch her incredulously, while some of their surrounding housemates and even a few students from other houses turn to gawk at the scene unfolding.

“Gin,” Ron breaks the silence, “what the hell?”

“What was that for?” Harry huffs angrily when he finally snaps out of his own shock.

“That,” she starts, a pleased ring in her voice as she sits down, “is for lying to us for so long.”

Harry stares at her with his mouth still agape, and Ginny just rolls her eyes before giving a very pointed look at the ring rested on his finger. He hasn’t tried to cover it at all since yesterday, it seems, and she’d probably find it cute if she wasn’t enacting her own righteous revenge right now.

Harry lets out nothing but a simple “oh” before averting his gaze and rubbing his neck sheepishly.

“I didn’t, I mean, I wanted to—”

“Geez, I see why ya chose a bloke now, Harry,” Ron says, interrupting Harry’s spluttering excuses without even realizing it. “Girls are so _violent_ , it’s no wonder—ow!” He yelps when Hermione reaches across Harry to slap his arm. “See! Violence!”

“Oh shut _up_ , Ronald,” Hermione quips, scoffing as Ron just dramatically rubs at his arm in response. “Someone needs to keep you boys in check, that’s for sure.”

“Exactly,” Ginny agrees. “Or you might end up running off and doing something crazy like, oh, I don’t know—”

She narrows her eyes.

“Secretly getting hitched without telling _any_ of your friends?”

Harry, who’d clearly been enjoying his brief respite from being the center of attention, stiffens at her words.

“We aren’t married yet,” he murmurs, but the tips of his ears are red and he’s still refusing to look anywhere but his plate.

“ _Yet._ ”

Besides him, Hermione snorts as she sips her pumpkin juice, and Ron’s unabashedly staring at Harry in hopes for explanation. Odd, Ginny assumes he would have already cornered Harry by now. Pin him down in the boy’s dormitory at night and demand he explain everything, that sort of thing.

Actually, he probably did, judging by the looks of things. Ron doesn’t look nearly as livid as Ginny would have expected, more just intrigued to hear what Harry has to say, and Ginny watches in marked interest as Harry finally raises his gaze to meet her eyes.

“I’m, I’m sorry,” he finally forces out, eyes flickering to Ron and Hermione as he speaks as well. Yep, he’s definitely already had this conversation with them, because his gaze mostly just fixes on Ginny as he continues, “I really didn’t mean to hide it for so long. I just, well, I mean…”

He trails off and starts rubbing at his neck again, and Ginny decides to take pity on him for once.

“Is this why… last year…?”

She doesn’t elaborate, mainly because Ron, Hermione, and Morgana knows who else are listening in, but she doesn’t need to. Recognition immediately flickers in Harry’s eyes, quicker than even Ginny would have expected.

She supposes turning down your best friend’s sister would stick with anyone.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, and she nods.

It’s a fair bit of closure, more than she ever could have hoped for, really. Back when she’d first asked him out last year, he hadn’t been able to give her any reason for rejecting her besides some canned responses of “it’s not you, it’s me” and “you’re like a sister to me.” At least now, her heart can rest easy knowing that at the end of the day, Harry was just being loyal, and she can’t fault him for that.

“How long?” she asks instead, eyes flickering down to his ring again before she can help it.

“Huh? Oh, uh, well, a few months ago, he—”

“No, you twit.” As much as she’d _love_ to know all the gory details of the proposal—lord, that still feels strange to say—that’s far from all she wants to know, especially right now. “I mean when did you start dating Riddle in the first place?”

Harry blinks, and oh, there’s that flush again. It’s a little endearing, seeing how the normally shameless Harry Potter seems to go beet red just mentioning the man he’s fucking _engaged_ to.

‘Tis the dichotomy of men, Ginny supposes.

“…fourth year.”

“ _What_?!”

Okay, _that_ Ginny hadn’t been expecting, and judging by the hushed cries of shock from the peanut gallery surrounding them, no one else had either. Ron, for one, looks particularly incensed.

“What the fuck!” he exclaims, boisterous even as his best friend shrinks from the attention. “You’ve been snogging a snake since _fourth year_?”

“Ron—”

“That’s bloody mental, how could you stand that bastard for so long—”

“Oh, sod off,” Harry snaps back almost instinctively, seeming to resign himself to his fate.

Sure enough, soon enough he’s being all but bombarded with questions left and right, ‘til breakfast’s been long forgotten in favor of an interrogation or seven, much to Harry’s dismay.

“How’d you even meet?”

“He helped me with Potions in third year, and we became friends after that.”

“So you’re gay?”

“I like girls fine, I just happen to like blokes too.”

“Why a _Slytherin,_ though?”

“Y’know, he’s actually pretty nice when you get to know him.”

It feels like anyone and everyone’s weighing in, eyes shining at the opportunity to learn more about the juiciest scoop of the school, even if they run Harry into the ground doing so.

Ginny doesn’t blame them for their rapt fascination, though. The idea of Harry, _their_ Harry, shacking it up with not just a Slytherin, but Tom Riddle of all people, seems like the most absurd thing of the century. Saying they’re all intrigued doesn’t even begin to explain how they feel, how _she_ feels.

Though, she’ll admit, that probably pales in comparison to the weirdness Harry himself must be feeling right about now.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, let him breathe, people!” Hermione’s eventually cutting in, beating them all off with a metaphorical stick. “You can ask your questions later, or, y’know, _never_.”

Protesting grumbles sound out across the table, but Ginny doesn’t miss the grateful smile Harry shoots Hermione’s way.

Vaguely, Ginny supposes she should feel a little bad for him. After all, from what she’s heard, the sudden relationship reveal hadn’t exactly been his choice. The very thought even makes her a little angry on Harry’s behalf—who does Riddle think he is, putting Harry in such an uncomfortable situation like that? People certainly don’t seem to bother _him_ about it.

Well, that’s probably because he’s far too intimidating and not nearly as approachable as Harry is, but still!

“You should invite him to sit with us,” she blurts out before she can think any better of it.

Harry, graceful as always, just gapes at her in response, barely getting out a strangled “huh?” past his mouthful of eggs.

Hermione, though—oh, her eyes shine at the very suggestion.

“See, Harry? Even Ginny agrees,” she says, and, well, there’s Ginny’s confirmation that they’ve talked about this already. “We _told_ you, we need to see how he really is before we can approve of him.”

“What she said!” Ron tags on. “That slimy git better get used to us if he wants anything to do with you.”

“You do realize we’re already engaged,” Harry points out, though the flush on his face betrays any impression of composure he might have had.

It’s Hermione, surprisingly enough, who just scoffs and waves him off.

“Engagement’s not valid ‘til we approve. That’s, like, the _rule_ of best friendship _—_ ”

“ _—_ Yeah? And where’s this supposed rule book, huh—?”

“ _—_ And if we think he’s a prick,” Ron adds, completely ignoring Harry’s grumbling, “I have complete permission to bash his head in!”

Just barely, Ginny refrains from mentioning that Riddle could probably hex him into oblivion before he even laid a hand on him. Instead, she just nods solemnly, though her expression cracks into a grin when she sees how flustered Harry looks.

“You guys are awful,” he says, though Ginny just knows he’s internally preening at his friends’ protectiveness.

“You think this is bad, mate, just wait ‘til he comes to visit the Burrow,” he says with a snort.

“…the Burrow?”

“Well, yeah. Ya can’t very well go off and get married ‘til he meets your family, now can he?”

“But I don’t—”

_—have a family._

Ginny knows that’s what he was about to say, and from the looks of it, Ron and Hermione knew too. It’s a relief, then, that Harry chokes himself off as realization dawns in his wide eyes. Eventually, the shock fades from his expression, and in its place, a sort a pleased, if not a little embarrassed, grin tugs at the corner of his lips.

“The worst. You guys are the _worst_ ,” he says, but there’s no heat behind his words, and Ron just snorts in response.

“Yeah, well you’re stuck with us, so you should really get used to it.” He pauses, thinking. “Merlin, Riddle’s gonna hate family Christmas, ain’t he? He'll take one look at Mum's sweaters and run for the hills.”

“He hates Christmas in general,” Harry says dryly, and there’s so much bite to his words that Ginny just _knows_ that there’s a history of contention there. She almost can’t wait to learn more. “He’ll survive.”

“That is, if he survives meeting the family first,” Hermione points out.

“It’s true,” Ron says, “You know Mum’s gonna string him up like a bear trap and leave him to rot if she doesn’t like him.”

“Fred and George’ll turn him into a tester for all the new Wheezes products,” Ginny adds, and Ron grins back at her.

“Bill knows some pretty nasty curses too, y’know.”

“And Charlie can sick a dragon on him!”

“Plus, Riddle wants to work in the Ministry, right? I’m sure Percy can put in a few bad word about him there.”

“And dad, uh…”

“Dad, he, uh… well, he’s got that stare, right? When he gets really angry.”

“Yeah! The disappointed dad stare!”

“I—you _guys_ ,” Harry whines, while Ginny and Ron just snigger in response. Even Hermione's lips are quirked upwards a bit, though she's hiding it behind a mouthful of ham. “I’m never bringing him over. You're gonna kill him before we even get married.”

“When _is_ the wedding, anyway?” Ginny asked, and she blinks in surprise when Harry almost immediately groans in response.

“Don’t even ask,” he complains, shoveling some sausage into his mouth frustratedly.

“Harry?” Hermione asks, placing a hand on his shoulder lightly, and he shakes his head.

“If he had his way, we would’ve been married the second I turned 17.”

Ginny wolf-whistles, Hermione gapes, and Ron squawks indignantly at the words.

“Well he’s certainly eager.”

“That’s one way to say it,” Harry mutters.

“Why so early, though?” Hermione asks hesitantly, and Harry just shrugs.

“I dunno, he has this whole thing about magical bonds or whatever. Said something about how it makes a bond stronger, when a person’s younger and their magic’s fresher. Never really listened—personally, I think he just wants to stake his claim early, the jealous git.”

Somehow, Ginny doesn’t doubt that, but she decides to give Riddle the benefit of the doubt just this one time.

“I’ve heard about that,” she says. “It’s supposed to maintain magical integrity and strengthen your marriage. Plus, it’s a huge status symbol. Loads of purebloods do it, especially when they’re marrying really distant relatives or marrying outside of the family at all.”

“But we’re not purebloods,” Harry gripes.

“He is the Heir of Slytherin, though,” Hermione points out. “And you’re the only living Black and Potter Heir. He must want to follow tradition, at the very least.”

Harry rolls his eyes, and his silent “ _don’t remind me_ ” lingers in the air. Things fall quiet for a minute, a sort of terse silence where no one really knows how to continue the conversation or break away from it. They eat wordlessly for a minute, before finally, it’s Ron who’s breaking the silence.

“Well, whenever it is, it better not overlap with Bill and Fleur’s wedding,” he says. “Mum might actually rip your head off if you do that to her.”

“Or at the very least, send you your first Howler,” Ginny adds with a grin, not mentioning how much she would pay to see that. Harry snorts, shaking his head fondly. “If she has to plan two weddings at once, on this short of notice, she might actually go insane.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry says.

“She’s already gonna kill you for not marking him down as your plus one for August.” Ron says before pausing. “You _are_ bringing him, right?”

Harry blinks.

“I, uh… I haven’t asked him.”

“You haven’t—Harry, the wedding is in _two months_!” Hermione chastises, perhaps a little too loud as Harry flinches at her volume.

“Yeah? That’s plenty of time!”

“Plenty of—my goodness, you boys are awful. Do you even _realize_ how much goes into a wedding?”

“It’s not _that_ big of a deal—”

“The guest list is crucial! Otherwise, how else can they know how much food to order, how many tables to set up, what favors to prepare…”

Ginny tunes out the sound of Hermione and Harry’s bickering with a fond smile. That quickly morphs into a frown, however, when she looks off in the distance and sees none other than Riddle himself, far away sat at the head of the Slytherin table. He’s not looking their way at all, occupied by his own housemates, but the very sight of him sparks an idea in Ginny’s mind.

Before she can even think about second-guessing herself, she stands up, and the abrupt movement has even Harry and Hermione shutting up.

“Gin?” Ron asks.

“Why don’t we ask him now?” Ginny asks in response.

It only takes a second for Harry to follow her gaze, and his eyes widen when he does.

“Wait, what are you—”

“C’mon,” Ginny interrupts, stepping away and walking towards the Slytherin table without a shred of doubt.

She doesn’t need to even look to know that Harry’s stumbling after her.

“Listen, Gin, I don’t think—we don’t need to—just wait for a sec—”

Ginny’s very aware of the commotion slowly growing around them as they walk, particularly the more Harry tries to stop her. It fuels her, if only partially, pushing her forward when usually the very idea of approaching the Slytherin table would make her want to curl up and cower.

Is this her petty revenge for not being able to witness the chaos that had gone down the day prior?

“Riddle.”

Perhaps, though she’ll never tell.

To his credit, Riddle hardly seems surprised by her presence. She’s sure he is internally, but ever a man of composure, there’s not a single thing in him that betrays his typically pleasant and passive façade. He simply sets his cutlery down and turns to face her calmly, cutting off whatever conversation he’d been having with Draco Malfoy prior to this.

“Weasley,” he greets pleasantly, raising a prim eyebrow curiously when his gaze drags over to see Harry trailing behind her. “Harry.”

“Ginny,” Harry hisses, not even acknowledging Riddle’s greeting. “You really don’t need to—”

“August 1st,” Ginny says as Riddle simply looks back to her with an amused look. “My oldest brother Bill’s getting married. Is Harry bringing you? We need to fix the guest list if he is.”

“Ginny!”

“…I wasn’t aware of the occasion,” Riddle says after a moment’s pause, eyes flickering to where Harry’s undoubtedly groaning from the whole confrontation. “However, I’d be honored to attend such a function…if Harry asks me, of course.”

God, could he _sound_ any stuffier? Ginny’ll never understand what Harry sees in this prick, besides his looks, and his smarts, and his charm, and his magical power, and his—

Well, okay, maybe she understands it a little. But she digresses.

“I was going to eventually,” Harry gets out, crossing his arms petulantly. “I just didn’t think it’s that big of a deal.”

“Wedding preparations take quite a bit of time, love,” Riddle explains calmly, and Ginny can practically feel Hermione’s _“I told you so!”_ in the back of her mind, even though she's still sat a ways away from them at the Gryffindor table. “It’s only polite to RSVP well in advance, to give the planners plenty of time to make preparations.”

“Sounds exhausting. Do we have to do that, too? Can’t we just—”

“For the last time,” Riddle cuts him off, and there’s a sort of underlying irritation to his voice this time that catches Ginny off guard. “We are not eloping.”

_...What._

“It’d be so much easier, though! And it’d be quicker, right? I thought you wanted to get it done right away—”

“We can’t throw nuptial tradition out the window just because you don’t like it, Harry—”

“I’m just _saying_ , this whole ceremony stuff sounds like a bunch of bulls—”

“ _Anyways,_ ” Ginny cuts in loudly.

As much as she’d love to hear this back and forth, she does have the self-awareness to realize that they’re in public. Everyone’s already whispering back and forth, especially the damn snakes near them. And while Harry seems to lose all cognizance of the people around him when he gets into arguments, she just knows that he’ll flounder from embarrassment once the realization hits him.

She’s a good friend, she tells herself, as she pointedly ignores the fact that she herself brought this on in the first place.

“You’re going to have to visit before the wedding once too,” she continues, looking directly at Riddle. “It can’t be the first time Mum meets you. She’ll be too stressed during the wedding, her head might explode.”

“But of course,” Riddle says agreeably. “I’d hardly want to trouble my future mother-in-law like that.”

Behind them, Harry squawks indignantly at the words _"future mother-in-law_ , _"_ as though they aren't 100% true, and Ginny and Riddle both choose to ignore him. 

“Harry’s supposed to spend the week after graduation at the Burrow,” Ginny says. “Should I tell Mum you’ll be staying with us too?” Riddle nods, and Ginny lets out a small breath. “Good.”

Finally, she turns back to Harry, who looks like he wants nothing more than to melt into the floor beneath them.

“See how easy that was? You make things too hard for yourself, Harry.”

Harry simply slumps in resignation.

“I hate you both,” he huffs, and Riddle scoffs.

“Of course you do, dearest,” he says, but he’s turning around and waving them off dismissively. “Now go finish your breakfast.”

“Prick,” Harry scoffs, but he lets Ginny grab him by the arm to drag him away anyway. As they walk back to their table, he looks over his shoulder and shouts, “You’re still taking me to Hog’s Head later, asshole!”

Riddle doesn’t even look in their direction, giving Harry another dismissive wave, but Ginny swears she sees the corners of his lips quirk upwards from afar.

Summer at the Burrow’s certainly going to be interesting, that’s for sure.

-

There aren’t many things that catch Draco Malfoy entirely off his guard, but Gryffindor’s Golden Boy perched in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room is certainly one of those things.

“Potter,” he spits, more out of habit than anything else.

Given recent revelations, he should probably take to being kinder, or at the very least more civil towards Harry Potter. While nothing’s happened thus far in the past six and half years of their rivalry, there’s no telling how quickly things can change when Tom Riddle gets involved.

But old habits die hard, and not just for Draco, it seems.

“Malfoy,” Harry greets with equally fervent animosity.

He looks incredibly disheveled, more so than usual, but it’s not out of nervousness or anything Draco would have expected. Honestly, he seems entirely unperturbed by the fact that he’s in the bloody dungeons. No, he’s just sat down comfortably on Slytherin steps as though it’s perfectly normal behavior for nearly 10pm on a Wednesday night.

Draco’s not quite sure whether to be angry, disturbed, impressed, or an unhealthy mix of all three.

“Why the hell are you here?” he hisses instead, marching up to where Potter’s just started to stand up.

Suddenly, Draco’s hit with an incredible gratefulness that he walked back to the common room alone today. Merlin knows how mortifying it’d be if he’d been seen to be fraternizing with Potter, of all people.

“Need to see Tom,” he says quickly, tapping his foot against the stone floors absently.

Draco refuses to let any surprise spill onto his face. He’d been there, after all, during the _very_ _public_ incident in the Great Hall just a few days prior. He’d been there just like many others had, when Tom Riddle had loudly and proudly stated his claim on the darling heartthrob of Gryffindor house.

Of course, no one in Slytherin had brought the topic up ever since. No one would dare, lest they run the risk of angering or offending Tom somehow. They’d all gone about their days as normal, save for the extra gossiping and stares flittering about the common room at any given moment.

Thus far, Tom’s graciously allowed the chittering so long as it was kept to a minimum, but Draco hardly sees how that’ll be the case if Potter starts barging in here like he owns the damn place.

“Password changed and that fucker didn’t even bother to tell me about it.”

If Draco hadn’t known any better he might have thought Potter was being conversational, or at least trying to be. But no, he knows better. He can see the way Potter’s eyes are darting about, his expression blank and his mind preoccupied. He’s barely acknowledging Draco’s presence as it is, clearly too antsy to even think straight enough for decent banter.

Draco’s silently grateful for it, too put-off by the whole situation himself to trade verbal blows with Potter right now, though he does make a mental note of what Potter said. Head Boy or not, fiancé or not, Tom really shouldn’t be giving out their password like that all willy-nilly.

“C’mon, are we gonna go in or not?” Potter snaps impatiently. “I am _not_ in the mood for this right now, Malfo—”

“ _Caprificus_ ,” Draco says finally, mainly because he doesn’t know what else to say.

The common room door swings open, and Draco’s left to do nothing but trail behind as Potter all but storms in. He hears before he sees the shocked outburst of his fellow housemates, and by the time he’s in the main atrium, several of them are outright glaring at Potter. A few are even scowling at Draco, mentally cursing him for letting Potter in as though there was anything he could’ve done to stop it.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Pansy sneers. “Or should I say lion?”

“Pretty far from your den, Potter,” Blaise adds on, pushing himself off from where he’d been leaning on the wall too approach slowly.

He’s not the only one, as others start to circle loosely around him, like predators closing in on prey. Draco would almost feel sorry for him, if he was anyone besides Harry fucking Potter.

“A little too far to be lost, wouldn’t you say?” Blaise continues, nudging Daphne in mock conversation as she nods solemnly. “Especially so late at night…”

“Found 'im tucked in front of the common room like a damn mole,” Draco pitches in, rolling his eyes as Potter glares at him briefly.

“That so?” Blaise regards him with a long, roaming look, one eyebrow raised as he continues. “Careful, Potter. Behavior like that, and people might get the wrong idea.”

“Fuck off,” Potter simply snaps back.

Sweet Morgana, even here, he’s barely paying attention, despite the fact that he’s getting encircled like a rabbit in a tiger enclosure. No, he seems much too distracted to engage in the minimal verbal prowess he seems to have, instead choosing to look around every inch of the room in rapid succession.

“The fuck you looking at, Potter?” Goyle shouts when Potter’s eyes linger in his direction for more than a millisecond.

Draco wants to roll his eyes as he sees him and Crabbe square up, readying for a fist fight like they’re still in 1st year. Potter doesn’t give them the time of day, though, and that only seems to enrage them even further.

“If you think you can just barge in here,” Bulstrode starts, looking like she’s about to charge into Potter and stampede on him like a raging hippogriff, “then you have another thing coming, you little—”

“What exactly is going on here?”

Draco’s not ashamed to say he jumps at the sound of the familiar silky drawl, and he snaps his head in time just to see none other than Tom Riddle descending from the dormitory’s staircase. He’s regarding the scene before him with a cold analytical eye that Draco’s seen all too many times, though it melts into a bit of surprise when his eyes rest on Potter.

“Harry?” he asks quietly, lingering at the base of the staircase as Potter marches up to him.

All of Potter’s previous haziness and distraction is entirely gone now. Unlike before, now he has nothing but laser focus as he crosses the wide common room in what seems like only a few measly steps. His once-flittering gaze is fixed on Tom’s face, which is now much less surprised and more calm, blank, stoic.

It’s like watching a raging fire torpedoing towards a boulder, and quite frankly, Draco doesn’t know who will win.

“What the actual _fuck_ ,” Potter exclaims, so loud it makes everyone in the room flinch a little. “is a marmite’s beak?!”

… _What_?

No one, not even Draco, can stop themselves from gaping at the sudden outburst. Out of all the goddamn things they could have expected Potter to say, _that_ certainly hadn’t been anywhere on the list. Riddle, though—well, he looks entirely unfazed. Every hint of surprise he might’ve had earlier has completely disappeared from his visage, replaced by a blank, unaffected look that betrays nothing at all.

Draco’s hardly surprised; it is _Riddle_ , after all.

“It’s a marmite’s beak, obviously,” he deadpans, entirely expressionless even as Potter looks on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“It’s a bloody squid! What’s it need a beak for?!” Suddenly, Potter’s rustling through his bag and yanking some parchment out to shove in Riddle’s face. “And why’s it used in Detection Draughts?”

Riddle blinks once, twice, three times, and it’s the only sign that he’s even a little disconcerted by the mini-tantrum Potter’s throwing. He takes the parchment presented to him slowly, taking it out of Potter’s grasp so he can pull it away from his face and put it at a much more comfortable reading distance. He scans it briefly, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he does.

“We didn’t get this essay,” he murmurs, and Potter lets out a great big sigh.

“Of _course_ you didn’t. Bloody favoritism, that’s what it is. Fucking Snape.”

Snape? Ah, so it _is_ a Potions thing. Well, Draco certainly can’t argue against Potter this time. NEWT Potions had been so popular this year, Professor Snape had been forced to split his 7th years into two sections: one with Slytherins and Ravenclaws, and one with Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.

It’s no secret which one he prefers, and which one he utterly despises.

Tom doesn’t respond with anything but a light hum, too focused on reading through the parchment in front of him. Potter looks antsy again, biting his lips and twiddling his fingers as he stares intently at Tom’s face, as though trying to piece out his reaction from every slight twitch of his eye.

“Love,” Tom says finally, and Draco jolts with whiplash when he hears Riddle, of all people, use the term of endearment. “Just when is this paper due?

“Friday,” Potter responds automatically, before blabbering, “but Quidditch is tomorrow, against Ravenclaw, and there’s no way I can let someone else sit in for me again, and Hermione _refuses_ to share her notes, and Ron is worse at Potions than I am, and, God help me, you _know_ Snape would rather swallow ten liters of salamander blood than give me any guidance—”

“Darling,” Tom interrupts, placing a hand gently on Potter’s shoulder. “Breathe.”

Usually, Potter would be spitting in response, shouting his little head off his shoulders ‘til he couldn’t anymore. _No one_ interrupts a seething Harry Potter unless they want to be talked off the face of the earth with rage. It’s almost pitiful, how easy it is to rile him up and embitter him, though with his overtly Gryffindor mind, that bitterness quickly morphs into righteous anger that Draco can’t stand.

But Potter goes uncharacteristically calm this time, deflating as he looks up to Tom with these disgustingly cajoling eyes. What’s worse is that they seem to work on Tom, whose frown grows as he looks down at a near-sniveling Potter.

“Please?” he says, seemingly shriveling up even further when Tom hands him his paper back.

“I have patrols to run,” Tom says simply, though there’s a noticeable hesitation in the way he says it.

“But I can’t—”

Tom holds a finger up to his lips, silently shushing Potter, and Draco’s left shocked as Potter once again listens.

“In my bookshelf,” he says slowly, “Third rung, towards the right hand side, there’s a hardcover book with red binding. It’s a general book on Magic in Criminology, but there should be a section on Detection spells and potions in there towards the end you can use.”

A pause.

“And I should be back by 11, presuming nothing goes terribly wrong during patrol, so if you’re still struggling terribly, we can deal with it together then.”

With every word that comes from Tom’s mouth, Potter’s eyes begin to glow more and more as the corners of his lips slowly pull upwards, until Tom’s finished and Potter’s positively beaming.

“I love you,” he blurts out, so open and unabashed and _Gryffindor_ that Draco wants to puke. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“You’ve perhaps mentioned it a few times,” Tom says dryly, though it’s betrayed by the way his lips tug upwards as well.

Potter rolls his eyes, suddenly going onto the tip of his toes to press a quick, chaste kiss to Riddle’s cheek.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, before he’s suddenly gone like the wind, flitting up the stairs to the dormitories before anyone can even think to respond.

And Tom—well, he just looks pleased.

“Back to your work, all of you,” he commands, though he’s far too satisfied with himself to sound anything less than amused. “Need I remind you that exams are fast approaching?”

Offhanded as it is, the quip works terribly well. It’s particularly effective for the many 7th years scattered about the common room who’re eager to gossip-monger, but are too scared of their upcoming NEWTs to try any longer. Furious scribbling and avid reading takes over any potential chitchat, and if it’s even possible, Tom only grows more smug as a result.

He sweeps out of the room with undeniable elegance, and it’s only once the common room door slams shut behind him does Draco dare to move. He slowly floats over to the fireplace, nodding in greeting to Blaise and desperately trying to mentally scrub his own mind of what he just saw.

Fucking Potter.

-

Colin Creevey will admit, if only to himself, that he’s fairly obsessed with Harry Potter.

He just can’t help it! Really, how could he? It’s Harry _frickin’_ Potter he’s talking about here. Every inch of that man is pure star material, nothing like that useless hoax Lockhart. Lord, Colin still remembers his own disgust, contrition, and shame when he found out the truth about his first DADA professor, about his phoniness and lies.

And who else to discover the truth about him but Harry Potter, the Golden Boy himself?

Well, it hadn’t _just_ been Harry, but Harry had been the true star of the show back then. Ever since then, Colin has been absolutely enraptured by Harry, though not in the way most people expect. He’s not particularly attracted to Harry, despite the way his friends tease him.

No, it’s more…avid respect, really. He’s never quite met anyone like Harry, so incredibly courageous and kind and powerful all at the same time. It’s no shocker, really, that he’s so popular amongst the whole student body in general, but Colin likes to think he gets along with Harry particularly well.

Of course, it hadn’t been like that at first. Colin would be the first to admit openly that he’d been pretty incessant, if not downright creepy, during his first couple years at Hogwarts. He’d go starry-eyed when he saw Harry, asking him for pictures and autographs all the time, trying his damn best just to be around him every chance he got.

It had only been fair, then, that Harry hadn’t particularly liked him when they first met.

But as the years passed, and Colin realized the weirdness of his ways, their interactions grew more normal until they could finally be classified as friends, to some regard. Sure, they’re not the closest buddies in all existence, but Harry doesn’t scowl in his direction anymore, and Colin doesn’t stalk him anymore. Overall, it’s a pretty good system, with a tacit agreement to be normal friends with only minimal amounts of undying admiration.

Colin might be on the verge of breaching that agreement soon, though.

See, besides his love for celebrities, Colin has an innate journalistic sense within him. Whether he can help it or not, he’s always had a longing urge to go after big scoops and juicy stories. It’s like it’s a part of his very soul, a need that claws within him and becomes impossible to ignore.

And, well, perhaps one of the biggest stories of all of Hogwarts student history has just come up, and Colin’s conflicted.

He’d been there, that fateful afternoon, when an overly ambitious Tracey Davis had single-handedly and unintentionally outed one of the most talked-about couples to ever go down in Hogwarts history. It’s only been a week since then, but Colin’s fairly sure just the revelation itself could go down as a page in their _Hogwarts: A History_ textbooks.

And now, a whole week later, and the gossip reels are still following Harry and his fiancé around with no respite. Whether it’s talk about _the_ Tom Riddle spending time over the summer with the Weasley family or rumors about Harry sneaking off into the dungeons for personal time with his beloved, talk about the star couple is absolutely everywhere.

Which brings Colin here.

He really wanted to stop himself, really! When he’d first heard rumors that Harry was going to be going on a Hogsmeade date, he told himself, bluntly and clearly, that he wasn’t going to indulge his inner gossip-monger. He wouldn’t stoop so low as to follow Harry on his date, to get a glimpse at the most picture-perfect, yet mysterious relationship in all of Hogwarts.

He just _wouldn’t_ , he told himself.

And yet, here he is.

Perhaps this is the universe’s punishment against Colin, for being far too nosy than he has any reason to be. He’s been here in Hogsmeade all damn day, since early in the morning, and yet so far, there’s been absolutely no sight of the happy couple.

He knows he’s not the only one looking, either. He’s constantly overhearing conversations from other passerby’s, all hoping to catch a glimpse of Harry and Riddle together. Yet all of them are having the same luck as Colin, running around in circles like a dog chasing its own tail fruitlessly.

Maybe, he thinks, it’d all been a trick. Maybe Riddle or one of his followers had planted the rumor, just so he could lead people on a wild goose chase for them. It certainly seems like something a Slytherin would do, and Colin wouldn’t even be that offended if that was the case. It’s terribly clever, and it only seems fair retribution considering everyone’s been trying to butt in on their relationship this whole week.

Really, thinking on it now, Colin feels quite stupid.

Sighing to himself, Colin wanders away from the hustle and bustle of the village, instead going towards the nearby forests. He’d come with a few friends, but they’d long left for the castle after finishing their shopping and outing for the day. Colin had stayed behind, still holding onto hope that he’d catch Harry at some point, so now it’s just him, wandering past chittering friend groups and couples while he went about the town alone.

He’ll go back soon, he tells himself. He just needs a minute to himself, so that he can reflect a little before he faces his friends and housemates again. He hadn’t told anyone that he’d been scouting for Harry, but he’s sure his friends knew when he suggested going to Hogsmeade in the first place.

He’ll apologize to them, he resolves as he wanders further into the forest. He’ll apologize to them, and to Harry while he’s at it, and then he’ll control his little not-obsession for the rest of the year like a normal human being. Harry’s probably stressed as it is, with being outed suddenly, and with graduation, and with everything else. He shouldn’t have to deal with this on top of all of that.

Man, the more Colin thinks, the worse he feels.

The ground’s a little soppy from the rain just an hour prior, and it feels a little like sludge beneath his feet as he drags them along. There’s a nice little clearing not too far from here, overlooking the Shrieking Shack.

Not many go near it, too put-off by the dilapidated old shed, and Colin’s always found it a good place to think when he’s in the village but doesn’t want to be bothered. He’ll spend a few minutes there, he thinks, collect himself, put his camera away, and then head back to school. Maybe he’ll even stop by Honeydukes to buy some extra conciliatory candy for his friends and Harry—

A loud, ringing sound pierces the air, and Colin freezes.

Blinking furiously, he looks around, and it takes a solid minute for him to recognize that what he just heard wasn’t a shriek or a scream like he’d thought, but a laugh. Shaking his head to himself, he sighs. Must have been from Zonko’s, he thinks. Probably having some sort of public demo for new products—those always draw in a large crowd.

Except… Zonko’s is pretty far from here, and what Colin had heard didn’t _sound_ like it came from multiple people. It sounded like just one person’s laugh, undoubtedly close by, and oddly familiar.

Whipping his head around frantically, Colin finds his feet moving before his brain could even process where he’s going. He follows the direction of the laugh slowly, realizing it’s leading to the very clearing Colin had been heading to. Is there someone else there? That’s not ideal, though Colin supposes it’s big enough that he could find his own spot to sit back and relax alone—

Two figures come into view, and Colin freezes again.

He’s far enough away to not be spotted, but he casts a _Notice-Me-Not_ spell anyway, more out of habit than anything else. They’d always been useful, when he’d done some journalism apprenticeship, and they’re certainly going to be useful right now.

Because lo and behold, there, right in front of him, is none other than Harry and Riddle themselves.

It’s surreal, being so close to them and seeing them like _this_. Colin’s never really interacted with Tom Riddle, but even he knows how strange it is to see him in this context. He’s sat down on what looks like an ordinary picnic blanket which Harry’s also sprawled out on. His head’s on Riddle’s lap, his outer robe shed so he can soak up the rare bit of sunny weather they’re having right now.

One of Riddle’s hands support him as he leans back against it, while the other is curled in Harry’s hair, combing through it and stroking it idly. Colin can tell from the way Riddle’s lips are moving that they’re conversing quietly, but he’s too far to have any idea what they’re saying.

Before he can stop himself, his mind starts whirring.

He quickly finds himself wishing he had an Extendable Ear on hand. Or, perhaps that would be too obvious, too noticeable, especially for people as perceptive Tom Riddle or even Harry. Maybe Colin can cast an amplification spell, though it’d have to be subtle and mild so as not to be detected.

Even then, he’d probably have to move away from his unintentional hiding spot and get a fair bit closer just to hear them properly. He wonders what would happen if he cast a _Silencio,_ but then cast a reversal spell. If he times it correctly, it might work, though it’d run the risk of other people hearing too and—

Colin’s thoughts cut off suddenly, as he looks up and freezes at what he sees.

Riddle is… smiling.

Smiling, down at Harry, which Colin’s rational mind supposes is the least surprising part of the whole thing. Because for all the time Colin’s known of and seen Tom Riddle, he’s never seen him smile once.

He’s seen Riddle’s lips twitch upwards occasionally when something amused him. He’s seen Riddle smirk haughtily when he shuts down a whiny Ravenclaw trying to one-up him in class, only to fail atrociously. Hell, he’s even seen Riddle grin once or twice, when he’s been particularly proud of his own achievements.

This, though? This is unlike anything Colin’s ever seen before.

Riddle’s expression is soft, a stark contrast to the pure sharpness of everything else about him. His brows are unfurrowed and relaxed, his eyes are gentle and warm, and is lips are unturned and soft. Everything about him just seems… happy. Genuinely happy and content, words that Colin had never really thought to describe Riddle before. Anyone else, sure, but not Riddle.

Then, when he sees Riddle mouth something that looks suspiciously like _“I love you,”_ Colin forces himself to look away.

He’ll buy candy for Riddle too, he decides. It’s the least he can do, for encroaching on a personal moment like this. Sure, he has no absolute clue on the sort of candy Riddle might like, but he’ll try his best. For now, though, he’ll let Harry and Riddle enjoy their time together in peace. Clearly, it’s far past time he takes his leave, and he’ll do just that right now.

…Right after he takes a quick picture first.


End file.
